


Childhood Toys

by Lozilan



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 18:17:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lozilan/pseuds/Lozilan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note: this story takes place after the Reichenbach case but before Moriarty breaks into the tower of London.</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Childhood Toys

The airport was crowded and their plane was delayed. Sherlock and John wandered over to a waiting area and sat down. They had been called at short notice by the police force of a European city working closely with Scotland Yard. John had rushed around packing while Sherlock pondered over the details.

As John brought over two coffees, Sherlock began to deduce his fellow stranded passengers. John always liked to listen to his deductions and observe the way Sherlock observed. Today, however, his mind was on other things like what on earth had he packed for Sherlock? He had grabbed two of his silk dressing gowns but no nightwear, did Sherlock even wear anything in... Anyway, had he forgotten something important? The case notes? A family came by. The father was a harassed looking man and the mother looked rather rushed. The youngest boy was being pulled along by this mother and the lad was dragging his teddy bear listlessly behind him. Sherlock started up his observations again. "The father is concerned he will miss his business appointment with his client, John," he whispered so as not to be overheard. The family stopped. "He is an executive in an accountancy firm and his client is a Japanese paper magnate, see the cufflinks he is wearing with their logo, surely you recognise it? And the phrase book in his bag."

"Yes, but don't you feel for that poor boy? I bet he doesn't want to go all the way to Japan at his age. Don't you think his parents are ignoring him? Look, he's nearly crying, poor lad". The mother obviously had sharp ears and gave them a strange look before moving on.

"Sentiment, John, it mustn't cloud your judgement . The child is looking forward to going to Japan. Did you not also see the animation on his backpack? His older sibling is a fan of Japanese art as you can tell by his badges on his hat and his scarf and has got him interested. He will be fine. It looks like they will be away for several months , hence the reason for the whole family to travel."

There was a silence for a few minutes before John suddenly said, "I expect a posh kid like you would have had a teddy bear." He smiled and waited for an answer. Sherlock leaned back on the plastic chair. "I did," he replied. "What of it?"

"What did you call him then? And was it your favourite toy, Sherlock?"

"For goodness sake, John, is this relevant to anything?"

"I imagine it was Aloysius or something silly like that."

"No, you are getting our family mixed up with Brideshead revisited, I read that book by Evelyn Waugh too and I can assure you I did not bring my teddybear to university much as I would have liked to have something to talk to. Anyway he was no more. By that time I had the skull instead"

"Even more macabre!" wondered John. 

"If you must know, I called him Jojo . Happy now?"

"My sister called me that when I was little!" said John incredulously."You are making this up, Sherlock!"

"Am I?" said Sherlock lazily though half-lidded eyes." Well he came everywhere with me, was a lovely blond colour, and had blue button eyes." He smiled."Somehow history repeats itself. I was really attached to that teddy."

"Sentiment?" asked John thoughtfully, staring at Sherlock.

"I was only a child John. So, what was your favourite toy, if we must have this conversation?" John looked up at Sherlock, something had happened to him as a child that made him different, sentiment was not part of his adult life, he wondered when it had changed.

"My action man, till Harry took it off me. He was a regular army guy. Oh, and my Dr. Who figure. You know, the one with the dark brown curly hair and the long coat and scarf? I had such fun with him and my action man on little adventures in time and space." He sighed.

"Humm," said Sherlock." History does repeat itself." They both laughed.

Then Sherlock hit his forehead suddenly.

"I was wrong, John, this conversation is of the upmost importance. There is not a moment to lose, quick man!" And he stood up suddenly and raced across the concourse with a puzzled John at his heels.

"What's the matter, Sherlock?"

"The family, I knew there was something about that teddy, he was dragging it along not caring, and did you see he didn't even look at it or want it? We loved our toys; that toy was not his!"

"You mean..."

"Yes, that teddy is probably concealing something inside and we need to find out what it is, come on!" And so saying, Sherlock raced over to the gate for the flight to Japan, which had just been called. The family was there and while John informed the flight attendant at the desk of a possible crime Sherlock bent down - to the parents' dismay - and asked the boy who gave him the teddy just before the flight.

"The Customs and Excise people are on their way over to investigate Sherlock," John said. The little boy looked lost. "Well?" asked Sherlock impatiently.

The father was about to storm off, but the boy's brother said, "It was our uncle. We don't like him but Mum said, 'Just take it, he is being nice,"

"These gentlemen will have to take it off you, but we will get you a better one from Japan" said the father. The father looked up at Sherlock and mouthed "what's going on?" with a glowering facial expression

The little boy nodded and handed over the teddy quite happily. Sherlock tore it open."I think you will find these packets need to be analysed ,they might not be what you think and you might want to handle them with care,"

"Not drugs is it?" Asked the HM Customs officer, an officious looking weedy man. Sherlock looked at him as he was handing over the concealed contents within the stuffing. "I suggest you call my brother" He said handing over Mycroft Holmes's card. The man looked at the name on it and paled visibly

…..

Sherlock and John finally boarded their own plane and as it finally took off they both sat back and tried to relax. Sherlock looked sideways at his companion. "That conversation we had after my observations on that family may just have saved everyone on the flight! All thanks to you John. You are amazing, a conductor of light," The ground rushed away, and John sighed happily and turned his head. "It wasn't drugs then?"

"If I am right, no, John, but let's wait for the analysis first. Mycroft will text me when we land." Sherlock looked away from the window, he seemed uncomfortable.

John nodded. "I'm a bit more useful to you than a teddy, then, aren't I?"

Sherlock laughed."You're my action man too!"

John smiled as he looked at the ground disappearing. He was content to be by Sherlock and had flown many times but he could also see that Sherlock needed a distraction as he obviously didn't like flying.

"Did Mycroft have a favourite toy?" he asked.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

The airplane started to descend, and as soon as it hit the tarmac Sherlock had his phone on. "Nothing yet," he stated as John stood up to retrieve the luggage. "Well of course it's only been an hour and a half since we took off; Dublin's not that far away, Sherlock."

He shoved the bag onto his friend's lap "It probably hasn't even gotten to the lab yet. What are they going to find?"

Sherlock tapped his nose."Cabin pressure, John, can't say any more as I may be wrong. Come on, the Garda`s finest is waiting for us!"

They exited the airport to find a middle-aged, seedy-looking policeman holding up a tatty cardboard placard with SH and JW on it. "Garda`s finest?" laughed John. The car was just as bad. If it hadn't had the crest on it, it might have come from the scrap yard.

They got into the car. The policeman threw a file into the back. Sherlock caught it and handed it to John, who opened it and began to peruse it. "Missing top Irish comedian, oh it's him, Sherlock, look! We were watching him on TV a few nights ago in that show, you remember?"

"He was supposed to appear in the playhouse theatre last night for our Oscar Wilde festival," announced the policeman in a lilting voice, "but on the opening night he didn't turn up."

"What was the play?" asked Sherlock. He seemed distracted.

"Lady Windermere's Fan," said John, looking at the programme in the folder. "Good play that, I saw it in the West End a few years ago."

The vehicle stopped outside an old-fashioned hotel." Well, here we are, boys, all our force could budget for." The policeman laughed in an asthmatic sort of way. Sherlock opened his mouth, but John shook his head. After years of living together, he could tell just what Sherlock had deduced about the elderly policeman,and as a Doctor he also knew the man probably had some form of lung disease caused by his heavy smoking and lifestyle. They got out. Sherlock looked at John innocently, as he pulled him out of the car and onto the pavement, "He has to know about his state of health John" John sighed. Since when has Sherlock ever listened to my warnings about not deducing people? He thought. Quickly he interrupted him before he got started,"Sherlock, have we eliminated the possibility that he has just got cold feet? I remember reading something similar to this about another celebrity some time ago..." Sherlock smiled "that's indeed a possible solution John, you are picking up my methods I see"

"We have a ransom note; it's just come in!" shouted the driver, moving off. "I'll be round at 8am!"

After they had waited to be registered at the hotel and wearily climbed the stairs to the room - it didn't even have a proper lift - John was looking forward to dinner. They were just about to enter the room when Sherlock announced he was going over to the playhouse that evening.

"Care to join me?" he asked. John was tired but willing. He quickly dumped the bags in the room and rushed after Sherlock.

As they walked along in the Dublin twilight, passing coffee shops and pubs and chocolate houses, Sherlock sighed. His eyes had a faraway look. "He never had any toys," he said.

"Who? What are we talking about?"

"My brother, when I was born I was his toy," said Sherlock bitterly. "I was played with and manipulated, molded and shaped. Made uncaring and self-reliant. He's still doing it."

They stopped outside the playhouse but Sherlock was on a rant. "He's like a spider sitting in the middle of the British government with his web extending to every corner!"

"Like Moriarty?"

"Moriarty is the black widow and Mycroft is the brown house spider, but don't trust either one of them," spat Sherlock

"Ok, calm down, Sherlock, we're here and the play is half-way though so he must have come back"

Sherlock pointed to a notice at the bottom which said that in tonight's performance, the part of Lord Darlington would be played by his understudy, Richard Brook.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: this story takes place after the Reichenbach case but before Moriarty breaks into the tower of London.

Chapter three

 

Flashback...

He reluctantly put the hat on and smiled through gritted teeth as cameras,flashed everywhere. John smiled and stood beside him for the photos, and in the background, Donovan clapped slowly, laughing at him from across the room.

At the rear of the press and photographers, a small dark-haired man wearing sunglasses and dressed with impeccable attire stood where he was unobservable by the main characters in the room and smiled to himself. He was formulating a plan and the painting had given him an idea. "I owe you a fall!" He whispered as he looked at the foaming waters cascading into the depths below. Then he slowly and unobtrusively slipped out of the building.

…. 'End of Flashback'

Sherlock stood looking at the notice on the playhouse, his mind racing with a possible theory. Then he shot round to the back of the building with John at his heels." Aren't we going into the theatre?" John panted.

"Stage door," said Sherlock, skidding to a halt outside the side door. "We won't be allowed in the front after the play has started and it's nearly finished now"

He tried the handle and found the door unlocked. There was a booth in the entrance with a burly man behind the desk reading a variety magazine as they entered.

"Whoa boys, you can't be coming in here now, artists only it is," he said in a thick Dublin accent. Sherlock looked at him and at the other bouncer leaning nonchalantly against the wall. "I need to get a message to Richard Brook," he stated calmly."It's very important."

The Dubliner slid out a notepad which Sherlock scribbled on. Then he looked at the bouncer leaning against the wall. No point trying to get through the both of them

"Here, this is important so you will give this directly to Mr. Brook won`t you?" John saw though Sherlock's manner he was being unusually polite , probably acting himself. The man reluctantly looked up not at all convinced "We are working with the Garda and it concerns the kidnapping. By the way, your wife is having an affair and your son is gay. He isn't going to tell you until you ask him, but he wants you to know."

"What? My wife you … how did you know that when I've only just found out about it meself - The Jezebel! I'm leaving her tonight I've had enough!" His fury was evident at his wife. Slowly he calmed down a bit, glancing at his fellow bouncer with distain. Sherlock caught the look and deduced the other bouncer was the guilty party. "So do you know my son? He lives in London, and if I am not mistaken you are coming from there yourself. How is Moonstone, as he is calling himself in that band?"

Sherlock looked at John, who as always was fascinated by Sherlock's deductions and certainly appeared more interested than the bewildered doorman.

"I was reading his letter to you, you have it open on your excuse for a desk and the subtext was obvious. I don't know him, I wish I did. You need to have a talk with him, get to know him better. As for your wife- look at your shirt cuffs and the grey stains on your trousers you gave her to wash, she hasn't of course. I also saw your wedding ring that you have taken off on the desk."

John smiled as the doorman snatched the note and bid them goodnight.

Back at the seedy hotel, John felt tiredness overcome him. It had been a long day. He was glad to get into bed but Sherlock was pacing about the room in deep thought.

"Tomorrow, you will go to the station with the policeman in the morning. I have a certain meeting and I will not require your presence" he stated.

"What? Sherlock you can't go meeting that actor on your own, he may be responsible for the kidnapping!" John said with a note of rising panic."Or at least he may be in league with the kidnappers."

Sherlock looked over at his companion. "I will be in no immediate danger, John, but how brilliant of you to have worked it out yourself!" He smiled dangerously and John had the feeling that he had missed something really important. A common feeling as far as Sherlock was concerned.

"Any update on the substance in the Teddy?" he asked sleepily.

"Yes, but I was wrong. It was not an air pressure sensitive explosive at all," said Sherlock through gritted teeth. John laughed.

"Just drugs then?"

"Synthetic MDNA, the explosives were located by Mycroft's men in Berlin. This was apparently a test run, close thing though, and our discovery helped to locate the people who had a hold over the boy's uncle in Europe."

"what people?" asked John

"Keep up John, the group responsible for the last explosion in Japan!" John shook his head. It was too much to think about at this time of night. He looked sleepily at the pacing Sherlock.

"Don't get yourself kidnapped tomorrow or I'll have to kill this Richard Brook and I wasn't even allowed to bring my revolver on the plane," John murmured, turning his head onto the pillow as he drifted off. He was still just awake enough to hear Sherlock gently whispering to him. "Goodnight Jojo."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

John entered the station and was shown into the chief inspector's office. The chief stood up and held out his hand. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I presume?" he asked respectfully. "Err … no actually; I am his assistant, Dr. John Watson, formerly Captain Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers and now working exclusively with Mr. Sherlock Holmes in conjunction with Scotland Yard." That sounded impressive enough he thought. The Chief was an ex-military man; John had picked up the signs easily enough. "Mr. Holmes is at present pursuing a lead on this case and set up a meeting last night with a Mr. Brook who is the understudy..." He hoped it was enough, it was.

"Well, my lad, I hope he can get more out of him than we did, we have already seen him, seems a nice enough lad, rather dim though, I am sure he's got nothing to do with this. But it's nice your Mr. Holmes has got to work already, sure it is. Well, I'll be getting you the ransom note printed out from the e-mail we got last night and then if you could attend a meeting at nine we will get you up to speed on the investigation." He stood up. "Would you be wanting breakfast, my lad?" he asked, "The boys are going over for some bacon butties before the meeting."

"Oh yes!" John said, remembering he hadn't had dinner last night after all. The chief left. John crept behind the desk and looked at the computer screen. The drawer below was partly open and he gently opened it further. Inside were a half empty whisky bottle and a revolver. Gingerly he picked up the gun and turned it over in his hand. It felt good. He read the ransom note on the screen and frowned. There was something very familiar about the style it was written in.

There was a bleeping noise from his pocket. A text from Sherlock. He opened his phone.

….

The tea room at the Liffy Hotel was crowded with tourists. Sherlock made his way across to where a familiar figure was seated nonchalantly at a French window table overlooking the river. The snow white dressed table was groaning with breakfast treats, scones, pancakes doughnuts, and Irish soda bread as well as fresh coffee and china cups.

"Sherlock!" cried Moriarty, standing up, his brown eyes dancing pools of chocolate. "You came! I am really pleased to see you, aren't you pleased to see me?"

"When I saw the name Richard Brook I realised it was probably you," answered Sherlock, guardedly. "It wasn't hard to figure out. But what are you playing at now?"

"You'll see!" he sang, sitting down again. "You haven't brought your toy today, Sherlock? I can't see him."

"If you mean Dr. Watson, he is elsewhere."

"I've got one now, too, see over there!" Moriarty pointed to the edge of the room where a tall blond militaristic man was standing with the outline of a gun in his pocket.

"So I see," answered Sherlock. He poured himself a cup of coffee. "An Action man," he murmured. "Who looks like Ken,"

"I thought our toys could play together, as they know each other, Sebastian Moran was your Captain John's superior officer for a while," he grinned "why do you think he has trust issues? Oh it's very bad - the history between them, do you know about it?"

"No," said Sherlock, intrigued.

"Fifty thousand, then, please," said Jim suddenly. His eyes darkened.

"Why?" said Sherlock, "For the information?"

"For our lovely National Treasure of course, there is a bank of Ireland over there and you have access to your brother's funds, don't you? I want a picture of you giving me all that money - for my album. Of course it's not the amount - that's piffling to me - it's the fact that you are giving it and I doubt you can get more than that from his account so be off with you, Sebastian will accompany you."

"If I refuse ..."

"Oh Sherlock, it was so sad, wasn't it? I know all about what your naughty brother did to you on your 11th birthday."

"How can you possibly..."

"When he came up to your room that night and he ripped your lovely Jojo from your arms and dismembered him right in front of you." Moriarty was relishing this story, as he had heard it straight from Mycroft's own lips. "Oh Sherlock, he told you then that caring was not an advantage, didn't he? That sentiment is only found on the losing side? Then he took your dismembered teddy-bear outside and flung his remains on the bonfire, didn't he? How you didn't cry then I don't know, I would have, I'm crying now Sherlock, look!" Jim's dark eyes were brimming over. "You followed Mycroft down to the garden as fast as your bare feet could carry you, and in the mud and leaves you ran trying to snatch your cuddly back from the bonfire but he was burnt, he had his little heart burnt out, didn't he? - And I can do it again, Sherlock, with your sweet little John, cant I? I can burn your heart out using my new toy."


	5. Chapter 5

"AAAAgh.." shouted Sherlock

The detective stood up. Moriarty motioned to Moran, who came over to take his arm. Sherlock looked a bit shocked, but he was angry too. Mycroft and Moriarty swapping stories about him? Couldn't Mycroft stay away from Moriarty - and where was he meeting him?

There was one thing though, no-one was as cold as Mycroft could be - trading his little brother's worst nightmares for something from that devil. "You are my archenemy still, Mycroft," he muttered as he was manhandled along.

He had got a text out to John during the last tirade from Jim. He had surreptitiously hit the keys from inside his pocket, touch-typing and sending to the person he texted last. He had exclaimed loudly at the same time as the text went to cover the sending noise. Jim thought he had made the sound in agony at his story and was strangely happy. He liked teasing Sherlock, he really did.

Moran marched him over to the bank, and 10 minutes later he was out with the money in Euros - so easy when you have access to a rich man's account. He wanted to take more, but that was all he could safely get. Moran took him back into the hotel tearoom where Moriarty had ordered champagne and orange juice . There were two glasses of the best Bucks Fizz the hotel could mix and Sherlock sat down and counted out the money while they drank together and Moran took pictures.

…...

"Liff hot now," the text said. John frowned at it. He tucked the revolver into his waistband and shut the drawer. He went back into the main area of the station where the bacon butties had arrived and picked one up. "Any tea?" he asked.

One of the women police officers came in with a steaming mug. "There's a wee nip o`whiskey in this one," she said, winking at John. He had clearly caught her eye . She looked at him appraisingly. He saw a pair of lovely dark eyes and the famed Irish auburn hair peeking out from underneath her cap. He smiled flirtatiously at her. "Thanks," he said, taking it from her. Their hands touched on the hot mug.

"Do you know what this might mean?" he asked, handing her his phone while sipping the alcoholic tea. She looked at the text. "Someone's a bit drunk? Down the Liffy Hotel on Clarion St?" she hazarded, looking into his glassy blue eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, John saw the Chief going back into his office, probably for more whiskey to put in his own tea. A second later he heard the drawer open. John decided to run at that point, banging down his nearly empty mug and still carrying his half-finished buttie.

…..

The cab took him to the Liffy hotel in less then 15 minutes He got out then realised he had no Euros and gave the driver a twenty pound note. That's when the driver told him snarkily he could have walked there in ten. He was about to drive off after cheating another tourist and John couldn't help himself. He held up the gun and asked for his change. The driver begrudgingly handed him back a ten Euro note, looking warily at his weapon. "Is that even real?" He asked.

As he was taking the money back he caught sight of Sherlock being manhandled by someone he also knew . Moran, he whispered to himself in shock. John felt his knees go weak and his throat became dry. The cab roared off like a shot and John took cover to avoid being seen.

They went into the hotel, and John followed, keeping his distance. He entered the main room and saw Sherlock sitting with someone who was obscured and they appeared to be drinking champagne. He stood back; Sherlock was obviously not in danger , he thought as he tucked the revolver back. Then all hell broke loose. The Garda arrived , tires screaming on the cobbled square outside and the sound of feet running towards the hotel. The trio at the table - along with half the tourists -appeared to be trying to exit through the French windows as the police arrived. The chief was running towards John. John turned and ran to Sherlock , who was now seated alone at the table and nibbling a scone.

"Sherlock, that was Sebastian Moran you were with! What were you doing with him, is he the kidnapper?"

"I was paying the ransom, John, as you clearly saw, you were keeping an eye on me outside after you responded to my text." He stood up and held out his hand." Sherlock Holmes, pleased to be of service, Chief Inspector."

The Chief looked at John." I'll have my revolver back now, Captain Watson," he said.

John took the gun out, but then unexpectedly raced out to the river and looked around. "We need to go after him, that's Colonel Moran, if he's our kidnapper your man is dead!"

He pointed the gun down the river at a departing boat, just making out the distinctive blond hair of Moran as he started to take aim. Someone screamed. Sherlock took his arm. "Give the gun back, John, its all over," he said gently. John lowered the weapon. "I wasn't going to shoot, too many civilians," he said. His hand was trembling as he handed the gun back to its rightful owner.

"I've had a call from the station, Chief, " a young officer said, striding forward. "Our missing man has been found safe and well and he doesn't want to press charges, says its all fine."

"Thanks O'Malley, that's all fine then " The Chief smiled. "Case closed I think!"

"All fine," John repeated, looking somewhat vacant. He stood briefly to attention, then walked back to the hotel and sat down at the table. He poured himself a glass of champagne and drank it in one go.

"Well, the Garda won't be pressing charges about the theft of our service revolver. I can recognise PTSD, had it myself for a while, after the troubles. You need to keep an eye on your colleague, Mr. Holmes"

"We keep an eye on each other," said Sherlock, following John back to the table.

"Any more champagne?" he asked.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter six

Sherlock was sitting on the floor of one of the labs at St. Bart's, playing with a rubber ball. John, sitting opposite him, was under terrible strain. They were on the run from the police, and hiding out here was not a good idea as this was a well known haunt of Sherlock's. It was only a matter of time before they were found. To further annoy him, Molly and Sherlock were having some sort of discussion with their eyes and it seemed he was the subject. In addition, they had been here for hours and had had no sleep. A nagging feeling that something awful was about to happen wouldn't leave him.

He glanced at Molly and caught her giving Sherlock another significant look.

"You two sharing some intimate secret?" he snapped. Molly blushed and fled from the room.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and scrutinised his companion. "If I remember, you reacted like this with Irene as well," he said thoughtfully.

"What are you implying?"

Sherlock didn't answer, just bounced the ball against the table and caught it.

"The Richard Brook in Dublin was Moriarty then?" asked John. This had been playing on his mind.

"Of course , John, haven't you worked it out yet? He needed acting experience; after the show he was taken on as the storyteller for RTE and then did a short stint on Casualty, the medical soap opera filmed in Bristol."

"I know, I watch it sometimes, remember, I am always shouting at the TV when they get it wrong? They even put at tourniquet on upside down once!"

"Right..., how unobservant of them, anyway, the point is, he needed an actual background so he could really claim he was an actor. If you checked up on him you could see all the information and evidence on film and in theatre reviews"

"So his identity could be as rock solid as possible?"

"No-one can prove he is Moriarty, but they can certainly prove he is an actor called Richard Brook. There are pictures of me giving him lots of money which will no doubt come out later as further proof that I hired him."

"Damn it! And he was working with Sebastian Moran on the kidnapping?"

"Moran was his right hand … toy, no doubt"

John drew a deep breath ."Sherlock, I really wouldn't want to tangle with Moran again. In fact, I may probably kill him someday for what he did."

Sherlock caught the ball. He looked up. There was a hint of concern on his features.

"If he doesn't kill you first," he replied. "So what did he do?"

John looked away." I don't want to talk about it," he said." Not now, anyway. I will tell you later when all this is over and we are sitting over a glass of wine somewhere comfy."

"That may be some time away, but it's a date," said Sherlock.

John gave a relieved smile. The past few days had been incredibly difficult. But Sherlock had amazing abilities , and sometimes he could even manage to say something reassuring. His phone beeped. John read the text and looked up in shock.

"Sherlock , it's the paramedics, Mrs. Hudson's been shot, she's dying! Sherlock, let's go!"

"You go, John, I'm busy." He looked almost bored.

"Busy?"

"Thinking, I need to think."

"You need to think?" asked John incredulously. "Doesn't she mean anything to you? You once nearly killed a man because he laid a finger on her!"

"She's just my landlady."

"Sherlock," spat John, his anger bubbling over,

"She's dying, you … machine!"

Sherlock didn't react. He stayed perfectly still.

"You stay here on your own, then," he said in disgust.

"Alone protects me."

"No … no, friends protect you."

He stood up. Sherlock was deathly silent.

John waited for a heartbeat before he turned and stormed off, giving Molly an irritated look as he walked down the corridor and strode out into the sunlight and London traffic.

Sherlock picked up his phone and texted, "Come and play, St. Bart's hospital rooftop." There was an unreadable expression on his face. He turned towards the door.

Molly tentatively re-entered the room. Sherlock was at her side in a second. She startled at this sudden closeness. He bent his head towards her.

"We won't have long, Molly" he said softly. His hand moved to her shoulder.

She nodded as she looked into his eyes searching for some kind of confirmation.

…


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback...three years ago...

In the heat and the dust of Afghanistan, Colonel Moran had pinned his insubordinate Captain to a dusty brick wall. The countryside was crackling with firepower around them. Seething with barely suppressed violence, holding his gun at his officer in one hand and with his other hand gently cradling his throat the Colonel was explaining exactly how ruthless to be to the village elders hiding the insurgents….

…

Six months after the fall…..

John was being pathetic, Harriet thought. He had been moping about her house for over a month and, frankly, getting on her nerves. They had been bickering no end. She knew he was getting ready to leave, move on, to surf on someone else's couch. She felt she should be trying to help him, but she had enough of her own problems. Clara had left; she was struggling with alcoholism, and now this. She didn't even know why her little brother was so needy right now. She knew about his weird flat mate, but that was months ago. He should just get over it.

Harriet kicked the door to the lounge open and entered carrying a small box. "Look what I found in the attic JoJo!" she said enthusiastically.

"Don't call me by that childish name, Harry," he said dejectedly. She sighed. This was going to be a challenge. Carefully, she set the box down and opened it. For the first time, that long month a look of interest showed on John's face as he pulled out one of the contents. "My Action man!" he cried with a look of delight. "So you did have it! I wondered where that had gone. You took it off me and you've kept it! What on earth for?"

"Well I thought I'd keep it for my kids, but it looks like I will never have any now," she replied sadly.

"You never know, Hat, do you?"

"Yeah right, John, It's about as likely as your mate Sherlock coming back from the dead

John looked daggers at her. "Can't you ever stop being so bloomin` cruel to me?" he snapped? She looked ashamed for a moment. He looked back at the box.

"What else is in there?" he asked as Harry bent the legs of the toy into a sitting position and set it on the mantelpiece. "Oh, no! You didn't keep this, that's mine!"

"Mum gave me it when you went abroad, for safe keeping, good job she did after what happened."

"After I got shot you mean?"

She sighed and took the Dr. Who figure out of the box. "Could be valuable, this."

She leaned up and balanced the figure on the mantelpiece beside the action man. Her alcoholic hands weren't as steady as they should be, and as she tried to perch it beside the soldier figure, the toy became unbalanced and toppled over. John watched in horror as the little Dr. Who slipped off the mantelpiece and tumbled though the air as if in slow motion. He suddenly felt his life ebbing away from him as he watched the treasured dark-haired figure in its long coat fall towards the fire.

"And then the Tardis swoops down and they float into it!" said Harry triumphantly as she quickly manoeuvred the box under the falling figure so it landed inside and made the action man follow suit. "Oh Doctor, where are you taking me?" she continued, putting on pretend voices. She lifted up the box and moved it about making a whooshing sound.

"To Metabelis three, Action man, to find you a lovely blue crystal, but first we must defeat the spiders …"

Harry stopped, aware that something was wrong. She looked at her brother and gasped in shock. She had only ever seen this happen once before, at their mother's funeral, but now she couldn't believe she was witnessing it again.

Her adult brother was crying. Tears were falling freely from his red-rimmed eyes and coursing down his face as the former soldier stared vacantly straight ahead.


	8. Epilogue

.

Childhood Toys Epilogue

His duties finished for the day, John came over to the Nurses` Room. He stood there in the doorway for a minute with his arms folded; watching Beth, his clinic nurse who was busy dressing a knee injury of a little boy perched on the countertop. She looked round and her eyes lit up. "It's Dr Watson, Jamie!" she said, smiling up at John adoringly. "Hi, Dr. Watson!" Jamie said. "I got hurt skateboarding, but now I'm getting Kneepads!"

"Good idea," agreed John.

Beth had been his girlfriend for a few weeks now, and it was looking promising. She had dark mahogany hair cascading in curls like a halo round her face, blue-grey eyes, and high cheek bones like her Latvian mother. When Sarah Sawyer, who was in charge of the clinic, first saw them together, she had given John a knowing wink. He had dreaded introducing her to anyone else, so he had kept her rather secret. Yes, she looked superficially like his former flatmate, but what they didn't see was that she had a completely different personality. Beth was kind, helpful, affectionate, and anyway, it didn't matter if she was taller than him. A lot of girls were taller than him ,she was only an inch taller without shoes. Sherlock had been six inches taller, but that was not relevant. Not relevant at all. He had already met her mother and was wondering if he dare introduce her to Harry.

"I'm going running tonight, do you want to come with me?" she asked, looking up at him hopefully.

"Maybe," he said. "I really ought to keep in shape." He had lost more than two stone over the past year and a half, and some days he hadn't even gotten out of his chair. Now he was back to working full time, it was easier somehow. Anyway, he liked running. He remembered running all over London on cases with Sherlock and the breathless feeling of excitement it used to give him. He looked at the boy to distract himself from the tug of memories threatening to engulf his mind.

"What have you got there?" he asked, looking at the doll the boy was clutching. He smiled as the boy handed it to him.

"It's my GI Joe," said Jamie proudly. "I got him a week ago for my birthday when we went to Florida."

"Well, I wish I could go to Florida for a holiday too!" said John, turning the toy over in his hands and looking at Beth. "Maybe I should take the nurse. What do you think, Jamie?"

Jamie nodded; he obviously thought it was a good idea. Beth did too, and her eyes shone.

"So," said John, looking at the toy. "GI Joe huh?" He handed the toy back.

" Yeah well, he looks ok… I suppose but," John looked at Beth , his blue eyes sentimental. "you know something? He's not a patch on Action Man!"

The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the fic. Please let me know


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